Ablaze With Color
by MadamAndOtter
Summary: Every witch and wizard had been born, for thousands of years now, only able to see in shades of grey—silver, pewter, mercury, ash. Only when a witch or wizard meets their perfect match, their soulmate, would their world catch fire and blaze with glorious color. Can Draco and Hermione look beyond their past and find love, or deny themselves and lose their magic and one another?
1. Chapter 1

_Authors' Note_ _: Otterlyardent and The Mourning Madam are teaming up to bring you this sweet, romantic tale. If you read A Clash of Colors by the Madam, some of this first chapter is familiar—until the end. SO MAKE SURE YOU READ! But we both decided to scrap the painfully long slow burn (much to the Madam's joy—Otterly was able to talk her down off the ledge) and bring you nothing but fluff and love. We hope you enjoy this! Thank you for reading, from the bottom of our hearts!_

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Winthrop's Wharf was a small seaside village on the English side of the England-Wales border. It had once been a large, booming seaport, long before Liverpool became the area's main hub. Now, it was a sleepy little town, enchanting and calm. The people there were close-knit and wary of outsiders—they also happened to be Muggles. It had taken Draco Malfoy two years before he could convince the people of the town that he wasn't there to cause them harm.

After the War and his subsequent sentencing—five years' supervised probation, with monthly wand checks—Draco had begun to feel as though the world was closing in on him. He tried his hardest to drag his family's name up from the abyssal pit it had settled in, donating money, time and supplies to multiple organizations. He had remained out of the spotlight, only emerging to make sure that the Malfoy name was prominent in any reporting of the charitable acts.

Winthrop's Wharf was just what he needed to escape the smothering attention his family had received after the War and his father's imprisonment. The air was salty and warm in the summer, refreshing and brisk in the winter when the snow blew in. The first year in the town had been brutal, learning to live as Muggles do. He had strong wards around his home, and at times he got so frustrated, he resorted back to pulling out his wand for the most menial of tasks. But he had made leaps and bounds in learning to blend in with the non-magical beings, and those instances were becoming few and far between now.

It was a warm April day, balmier than usual when Draco rode his motorcycle from his cottage into the town at the base of the cliffside where he lived. The smell of the sea, salty and free, tickled his senses; the warmth of the early spring sun heating his clothed shoulders. He had a few errands to run, but he was determined to stop in at Devya's Book Shop before he did. He'd finished the last stack of books he'd purchased and was in need of some fresh stimuli.

As he rode along the winding path down the cliff side, he looked out over the sea beyond. He'd been born, just as every witch and wizard had been for thousands of years now, only able to see in shades of grey—silver, pewter, mercury, ash. He'd read of colors, all the shades the Muggles had been born seeing, enough to know the water was blue. But to him, it was a dark shade of graphite. The sunlight danced along the water's surface, sparkling like millions of minuscule diamonds. The view was the most appealing aspect of living in this sleepy little town, and he enjoyed every moment of it as the wind blew his face and arms.

He pulled into the alley between two rows of shops and parked his motorcycle. He removed his helmet and shook his hair out—it just brushed his shoulders these days. Draco entered the small shop, a bell tinkling pleasantly against the door. Nadia Devya was a kindly, plump, older woman with long braided black hair and a soft-spoken temperament. Upon seeing Draco, she threw her hands up and gave him a wide smile. "Mr. Malfoy! Back so soon?"

He gave her a wide smile. "What can I say? I have an insatiable thirst for the written word."

"We just got in the new Gary Greenwood novel yesterday, I know you're a fan…" she began, leading him deeper into the bookstore.

The smell of the books surrounding him brought Draco peace, just as it always had. As a child in the Manor's library, then in the expansive Hogwarts library, the stale, sweet smell of aged parchment and bindings had comforted him. He had spent countless hours and days reading tales of dragon tamers and powerful epics of imaginary wizards, textbooks of years gone by, journals written in other languages. Anything and everything he could get his hands on.

He found that the smell of brand new Muggle books was every bit as tantalizing—crisp paper printed with shiny dark ink and bound, not with magic, but sweet-smelling adhesive. It brought a different excitement along. He drank up every new book he came across and feared he would soon be out of new material to read. He would have to start Apparating into Muggle London, to visit larger bookstores and he didn't fancy that idea much. Nadia had become like family to him in the hours he'd spent scouring her shelves.

She showed him to the new Greenwood novel, a murder mystery she was sure would capture his attention. He delved into the front cover, reading the description on the jacket hungrily. The bell on the door tinkled again and she patted his arm and excused herself to greet her new customer.

It was then that Draco heard a voice he hadn't in nearly three years. He groaned and tried to duck behind the shelves, not remotely interested in speaking with the witch. Not even in a small seaside village in the middle of nowhere could he find non-magical peace. Life would always have a way of catching up with him.

But, as the Fates would have it, Nadia brought the witch directly down the aisle where he was currently hiding. "We have the new novel from your favorite author!"

There was no way for him to get around the stack of books Nadia had blocking the path to the next aisle. He could hear them approaching and he looked ridiculous hovering at the end of a bookshelf, looking at nothing. Draco jutted his chin out proudly and took a deep breath, ready to confront the harbinger of bad memories. He turned around and the new Greenwood book clattered to the ground, forgotten in his shock.

The one witch he'd been unnecessarily cruel to in his earlier life, the once plain and painstakingly ordinary girl, was suddenly _vibrant_. Oral stories and traditions passed down through the wizarding families had always alluded to the fact that one day seeing color was a rarity and a gift. It was the basis of many a whimsical lore and childhood fairy tale. If two magical beings one day saw each other in color, there was no denying the bond that would follow the sighting. It meant the two were soulmates, undeniably and irreversibly so. If the bond was denied, the magical cores of the two would fade into nonexistence, crushed by a mourning unlike any they'd ever felt before. This could only come about once both had reached the tender age of eighteen, and the last time Draco had laid eyes on her was the second of May, three years prior. He had been one month shy of his eighteenth birthday. If he had known then, he never would have left London, never would have left her side after the Final Battle.

Draco could feel his jaw go slack as he stared in wonderment at the sight of Hermione Granger. He didn't know any of these shades and tints; he knew only grey, and suddenly, there was a spectrum of hues before him. The brightness was nearly blinding and Draco had to blink a few times, his eyes watering at the sudden assault on his senses. There was a shimmering about her, more exquisite than anything else he'd ever laid eyes on.

The witch's eyes went wide and she raised an eyebrow at him, an eyebrow that was the same curious shade atop her head. He swallowed hard and bent to retrieve the book he'd dropped. Nadia glanced between the couple and looked perplexed. "Do you two know one another?"

The witch scoffed and he narrowed his eyes at her. "We know _of_ one another."

Draco knew his mouth was still hanging open speechlessly as he stared at the wondrous angel before him. He glanced around—everything was still in shades of grey. Everything but her. He wondered what he could compare the soft shade of her cheeks to, the sweet color of her lips, the strange, shiny hue of her hair. And her eyes. _Merlin her eyes._ What else in the world would mimic that color?

He drew a deep breath in and cleared his throat. "I'm going to keep browsing, Nadia," he said, waving his book in one hand and gesturing down the aisle.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. And you, Miss Granger? I've got a few new books on knitting patterns you might enjoy," the bookstore owner said, placing a hand on Granger's shoulder to walk her toward another aisle.

Draco pretended to look at the mystery novels before him, but he couldn't draw his attention away from the swath of brilliance two aisles over. He watched as Nadia pulled a few different books down to show Granger and listened as the witch politely dismissed the Muggle. As he watched, from between the spines of books and through the shelves, Granger's face peered around a stack to glance his way. A small smile graced her features and her cheeks darkened as she tucked a curl behind her ear and looked down. He smirked a little to himself—she was curious, too.

He wanted to talk to her, wanted to touch her strange hair and kiss her softly tinted lips. But they weren't friends—they never had been. They were enemies, and a deep-seated loathing had always separated the two. Draco took his book and ambled, unwillingly and with great discontent, to the register to pay. His heart was racing and he could feel the blood rushing behind his eardrums. Her soul had already called to his, he was sure of it. The warmth that was spreading through his chest, the calm and serenity he felt battling his anxiety at her close proximity. It was nearly too much. He'd have to walk away. His magical core would wither away if he denied the soulmates' bond and he would waste away into nothing more than a Muggle from a crushing blow to his entire being, stronger than any broken heart.

When he got to the register, the older woman gave him a kind smile. "She comes in every Friday," she whispered, giving him a wink.

Draco gave her a bewildered look. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw the look you gave each other. Clearly, there is a history," Nadia told him, placing his book into a bag.

He was growing immensely uncomfortable with the way the conversation was progressing and he took his book and his change and swiftly left the bookshop. When he got to his motorcycle, he sat atop the seat, his helmet in his hands and took a few steadying breaths. Hermione Granger. _Hermione sodding Granger_. Draco felt an absurd feeling rising in his body. Laughter. A deep, rumbling laughter bubbled up from his chest. The Gods were taunting him, their sense of humor cruel and unusual.

"What's so funny, Malfoy?" came the sweetest voice he had ever heard in his life.

His head whipped in her direction and there was a bombardment of color. Granger was standing in the alleyway with him, looking at him with a fierce curiosity. Draco's breath hitched at the sight of her moving closer to where he was. He swung his leg off the motorcycle and met her halfway. She looked at him, her eyes moving over his hair, his face, the tattoos that covered his left arm from shoulder to wrist.

Granger, seemingly unable to stop herself, lifted her hand and ran a fingertip over his arm. Her lips parted slightly and he was transfixed by the sight, just as she was staring in awe at, what he assumed, was a plethora of colors staining his arm. "This is incredible," she murmured.

"Do you understand what this means, Granger?" he asked, his voice raspy when he finally found it.

"I'm trying not to think about it," she admitted, her eyes raking over his clothing, his shoes and then back up toward his face.

He allowed himself to do the same to her, noting that her hair wasn't _one_ color, but multiple. Her skin was magnificent, glowing. She had a splash of freckles across her nose and they weren't dreadfully plain as he'd once thought. In color, they were cute and endearing. And her eyes, seemingly a darker shade than her hair but the same hue, were depthless. They were warm and he wanted to get lost staring into them.

"Your eyes are still grey," she said, touching his cheek lightly to lift his face so she could look into them. "But…not just grey. There's…something more. Little flecks of something I can't identify."

Her touch on his face was sizzling and he could feel his magic awakening powerfully within him. His soul was calling to hers. The pull toward this witch was all-encompassing, overtaking his every sense, his every thought, his entire being. The thought occurred to him that there was no way he could possibly leave her alone now. But how on earth was he supposed to get his heart in line with his soul? Could he possibly fall in love with her? "Granger…what are we going to do, now?"

His question seemed to finally snap her out of the trance she'd fallen into. An unwelcome sadness filled her warm eyes. "I don't know—I need to think. I'm sorry…this is just so unexpected. And overwhelming! I-," she swallowed thickly, withdrawing her hand from his skin. "I'll find you."

And she was gone, striding quickly away from him. "There's an open house for members of the community at my fire station Sunday. Station Twenty-Two. I—I hope to see you," he called after her, disappointment vibrating through his entire being as he watched her stride away from him, her head hung low, her hair beginning to frizz about her head wildly.

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 _We really hope you've enjoyed this first chapter. Let us know what you think?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note_ _: Our readers have my sincerest apologies for the tardiness of this update. Being ill and trying to write do not mesh well together. Hopefully, this makes up for it_?

 _We do not own Harry Potter._

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Draco couldn't sleep that night. Memories, the few he had, flooded his mind on a near constant basis. Grappling with this revelation, Draco tore through his belongings. Long ago, when he was still just a small boy, his mother had given him a card with all the various colors emblazoned on it. Her whimsical nature was only one of many reasons Draco adored his mother above any other.

She had always held out hope that he would be blessed by the powers that be, to find the other half of his whole. He had believed it was her innocent and gentle nature getting lost in flights of fancy, but after seeing Granger? He could practically hear his mother's happy squeal and swore to himself that he would thank her someday for her neverending faith.

Draco found the color card, tucked between the pages of an old potions book and his relief was palpable. Finally, finally, he had something to compare his new knowledge and observations too.

He found himself checking his card several times, a glint of some color shining in his mind's eye and he'd reach for it once more - needing to put a name to the vibrancy in his mind. Like her hair. How could so many colors blend as one, and form something so incredibly beautiful? Draco felt wrecked, missing the magic Hermione's presence brought.

Laying in bed, Draco found that her lips were an enticing shade of pale pink. Her expressive eyes? At first glance, they look brown. But if you pay attention, as Draco had, you'll see golden flecks around the iris, and the brown was warm, a color he couldn't put a name to, but gorgeous regardless. Hermione's skin had been flawless porcelain, with a bright swath of rosy pink along her cheeks, especially when looking at him. Gods, she was genuinely resplendent, and Draco knew he had to see her again.

His dreams were full of Hermione. Draco had years of memories, and his mind took the time to remind him of his every mistake with the witch. By the time he pulled into the station, parking his motorcycle, Draco felt like a jumbled mess. How would he go about approaching Hermione? He had to try; they would both lose their magic otherwise. After heaving a heavy sigh, he made his way into the fire station, a certain sadness settling slowly in his chest.

Nodding to his mates, Draco made his way to his equipment locker and quickly changed for his shift. The blonde donned his dark uniform—a pair of heavy duty work trousers and a dark cotton t-shirt for work around the station, steel-toed boots on his feet. Perhaps a bit of hard work would clear his mind of those breathtaking images of Granger, or at the very least distract him from them? He looked around, and his fellow firefighters were bustling about, getting ready to pull the engine out of the bay to clean it off. "'Ey, probie. We were getting ready to clean the rig. Devon's making breakfast now," Angus Porter greeted him.

Draco had begun working with the local fire brigade not long after arriving in the village. Most days were relatively quiet, spent chatting with the other firefighters and riding through town. On occasion, there was a genuine emergency to respond to, and Draco lived for those days. It brought back an adrenaline rush that he hadn't felt since he'd played Quidditch.

He joined Angus and the others, scrubbing and shining the rig until it sparkled in the light. Try as he might, Draco couldn't keep up with their conversations. His mind felt addled by the vibrancy he had witnessed the day before, and he couldn't shake it. If his co-workers noticed his quiet demeanor as they all tucked into breakfast, they were kind enough not to mention it and for that Draco was grateful.

"We need to get the last of the supplies today," Angus said around a mouthful of eggs. There were nods and murmurs of assent as everyone filled their bellies. Draco barely had an appetite and made his way to the rig early, eager for distraction. He decided against driving today, unwilling to endanger the lives of those in his brigade or innocent pedestrians because he couldn't focus. Instead, Angus climbed into the driver's seat, cocking a brow at Draco on the passenger side.

"Rough night," Draco grumbled and waved his mate's attention away.

The scenery was as inviting and enchanting as ever, and Draco found himself staring out at the water more often than not until they found themselves in the middle of Main Street. Draco found himself contemplating all the things they needed for the open house, and was overjoyed that his mind seemed to be returning to normal.

His fragile peace was shattered mere minutes later when he scanned his surroundings and there, just turning the corner - vibrancy that outshone the sun.

Draco's breath left his lungs in a sudden expulsion, and he couldn't look away from the sight before him. Granger, looking like a blasted Goddess, was walking with an older couple. His hands itched for his color card, but he couldn't pull it out in front of Angus anyway. She wore a sweet little sundress, and it looked to be white with flowers of some kind embroidered on it and a charming green cardigan.

"Look any harder, and you'll break your neck, mate."

Draco briefly glared at Angus before turning to keep his eye on the trio. "Shut it, Angus," he muttered while biting his bottom lip. "In fact, let me out."

Angus chuckled, shaking his head but parked the rig quickly. "Go get her, Malfoy. This bird the reason you've been so off today?"

Draco merely rolled his eyes and offered a smirk before slamming the door in his friend's eager-looking face. With a little quick thinking and Slytherin cunning, Draco found a spot to duck into to wait for Granger and what appeared to be her parents to pass. As soon as they did, he followed, managing to keep a little distance between himself and the trio of Grangers in front of him.

"Mum..." Hermione groaned, tugging on the ends of her hair. Draco smiled at her aggrieved tone, used to being the cause of it. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the way the sun danced along her honeyed highlights; her long, silken curls hung like a dark waterfall down to the small of her back. Draco's eyes drifted further down her body, sighing at her delicious bum and shapely legs.

"Hermione Jean, I worry!" he heard Granger's mum reprimand. "All you do is work. Ever since you and that Roland broke up -" Draco's brow furrowed, who the hell was Roland?

"Ronald, mother. Ronald," Hermione's sigh was heavy and tired. Draco found himself grimacing, realizing they were talking about the redheaded weasel.

"Right," her mum nodded. "Him. Ever since you two broke up, you've buried yourself in work. I don't understand why you can't stay longer. Look around, love. Don't you want to soak up the sun? Walk along the beach? Meet a handsome stranger?"

Draco had to fight to smother a chuckle, glad that he wasn't the only one to have to deal with meddling parents. He watched, entranced, as Granger rested her head against her father's shoulder. "Daddy, make her stop. I don't have the strength for this today."

Her tone was playful and beseeching, and Draco felt a pang of sympathy for the older man, he'd be hard-pressed to say no to Granger if she ever asked him for something in the same way. He couldn't see Granger's face but could imagine those doe eyes of hers widening and her full bottom lip pouting just a bit, yep, he wouldn't stand a chance.

"Jean," Mr. Granger voice rumbled, a deep baritone. "Leave her be. We've only got her until Sunday, don't send her running for the hills just yet, okay?"

"Fine," Mrs. Granger grumbled. "But when she ends up and over-worked spinster, don't look at me."

"Mum! Stop! I just haven't found... _him_...yet." Hermione's response was forceful at first but turned wistful. Draco understood the feeling. "My relationship with Ronald was a joke; I'll be the first to admit it. And I refuse to settle for anything less than incredible. I want magic, and fire, and passion. Do you understand? I don't want to rush into something just because I might be lonely. I want someone to sweep me off my feet."

Jean Granger wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple, "And no-one deserves it more than you, my darling girl. Have faith. I'll keep my opinions to myself, for now, I promise."

Draco slowed his pace, thinking over all he had overheard. He watched as Granger, and her parent's ducked into his favorite diner, and though his heart longed to follow and continue his clandestine observing, he knew he needed to make his way back to the rig. Draco's stomach twisted, he'd prefer to chop off his right arm than turn away from the glorious sight of Granger in full color, but his responsibilities were marginally more critical at the moment.

His mind wandered as he retraced his steps. Draco felt a jolt of something when he recalled Granger's words on finding love. He'd said things of a similar vein to his parents before. Understanding that they were looking for the same kind of emotional and spiritual connection caused Draco's heart to beat furiously beneath his ribcage. One thing was abundantly clear to him: Hermione Granger was perfect for him.

Merely two days ago Draco would have laughed at the thought. And not a polite chuckle either. He would have been choking on a mocking laugh, ready to ridicule whoever dared make such an observation. Now, however, Draco felt prepared to conquer the world to secure the petite brunette's heart.

Finding no one at the rig, he leaned against the passenger door. Draco knew they were most likely at the grocer but found the silence, only disturbed by the rare passing car and the distant sound of waves crashing on the shore, exceedingly peaceful and couldn't be arsed to move. Drifting back to the conversation he'd eavesdropped upon, he contemplated his next move. Draco still held hope that Granger would show up to the open house, but the fact that she'd only be in Winthrop's Wharf through the weekend worried him.

Rubbing his chest to soothe the sudden ache that appeared the moment he thought of Granger leaving, Draco bit the inside of his cheek and began to plot. He could always use the lack of her presence to his advantage, couldn't he? Maybe a visit to her parents once she was gone, to welcome them to the neighborhood, of course, would win him some points in their favor? He could do that.

Spotting Angus and a few others struggling with bags of food and supplies, Draco pushed away from the firetruck to offer his assistance. At least he had a plan. Not much of one, he could admit, but a plan none-the-less. The only thing he could be sure of was that he would do anything to win Hermione Granger's affection.

While seeing her through the spectrum of color was enough to shake him to his core and ensure a growing attraction, hearing her speaking about love in such a passionate and hopeful way cemented it. Draco found himself wanting to sweep her off her feet and fulfill all her dreams. He felt a bit like a pansy, but it couldn't be helped.

She'd walked into his life and turned it all upside down, leaving him to sift through the rubble of what was and what could be.

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 _Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: The Madam and Otterly thank you kindly for your support for this story. We are in complete agreeance that a tattooed, firefighting, romantic Malfoy is sex on legs._

 _o-o-o_

Draco had everything all set up and ready to go for the open house. His duties were to show off the engine to the neighborhood children. He had never given much thought to children, but he felt confident that he could entertain them enough between the lights, sirens and gadgets to kill a few hours.

He had tried so hard not to think of Hermione Granger as he worked alongside his fellow firefighters to prepare the station for their day. Thoughts of the bright, angelically vibrant sight of her was stirring something deep within him. Many things, if he were honest—a longing for true love and affection; deep, bitter remorse at the fact that he had been such a prick to her earlier in life; a feral, sexual desire that, try as they might, none of the muggles in Winthrop's Wharf had been able to satisfy completely.

His every waking moment was being filled with thoughts of the way her mass of brown curls glinted in the sun; the soft warmth of her large, inquisitive eyes; the delicate shade of her skin as a blush rose to her cheeks. He fantasized more often than he cared to admit about the way those curls would feel tangled around his fingers as he kissed her fiercely, passionately. Flashes of the way that blush would creep up her neck as she was moaning and keening beneath him. He could almost hear soft, declaring whispers of mutual love if he fantasized long enough. His soul was crying out to be near her again, his heart relentlessly pounding out of his chest almost painfully.

Draco still held out hope that Granger would show up to the open house. He'd invited her in an off-handed manner, but it was a sincere invite and he hoped that she would accept. He had gone through vast changes since the War ended, first and foremost living as a muggle for the most part. He was eager to show her that he was every bit as driven and focused a muggle as he was a wizard. Draco held an admirable, noble position within his community—he saved lives, didn't he? He finally felt like he'd made some headway in his penance for his past indiscretions. And he felt Granger could truly appreciate his efforts, coming from a muggle background and continuing interactions with her parents.

Angus was in charge of the barbeque and ensuring all of their guests were well fed. Draco had his area set up and ready to accept children, the doors all turned out and his turn-out gear set alongside it, so he moseyed to where the chief worked. "You invite that bird from Main Street?" he asked casually, noticing Draco's distracted disposition.

Draco leaned back against Angus' work table and crossed his arms, adjusting the strap where his dispatch radio sat. "Yes. I'm not sure if she'll show up, however. We don't have the best history."

Angus raised an eyebrow at him, tossing more meat onto the barbeque. "Huh. You not get along with a female? Doesn't seem likely."

"I was a complete wanker."

Angus let out a barking laugh and nodded. "The way you were looking at her, it was almost as though you were seeing her for the first time—awestruck and smitten within seconds."

"Let's just say her looks have vastly improved over the years," Draco admitted with a snort of laughter.

The first of their guests began to arrive and Draco recognized them all—in such a small town, everyone knew everyone. He ambled back to the fire engine and smiled welcomingly at their neighbors. A few children came running up to where he was and he grinned at the little people. They had inflated one hundred balloons earlier that morning, so he began pulling them out one by one to hand to each child along with plastic fire helmets.

"Who wants to hop in and start the siren?" he asked, his voice dripping with excitement to try and get the kids excited.

A pair of twins began bouncing on their feet and Draco lifted the pair into the driver's seat. The other children gathered around and he flipped on the flashing lights. He knew the lights were blue, and he thought to the color card burning a hole in his pocket. _Blue._ What a glorious color. He wished he could see it.

The children were excitable and all talking over one another as they wound the siren up and let it whine into the air. He explained, in basic terms, the function of many different knobs and levers. It was endearing, watching their innocence faces alight with curiosity. The children ate it up and his heart felt at peace for the first time in days.

That was until he turned around to set the twins down firmly on the ground. Granger was there, giving him the strangest look. Her eyebrow was quirked up toward her hairline, her head tilted to the side, a small but bemused smile tugging at her lips. Draco gave her his most dashing grin, trying to put forth a façade so she wouldn't see how bloody nervous her presence had suddenly made him.

Her responding smile was resplendent and he nearly fell out as she drew nearer to him, amusement evident on her face as he turned back to the children. "Do one of you want to try and lift this turn-out gear?" he asked, pointing to where his fireproof gear sat in a neat pile.

A couple of brave children tried to lift it by the handles on his boots, to no avail. One of the large kids could get it a few inches off the ground. "These boots, trousers and coat weight more than most of you—about eighty pounds total. And that's _before_ we put on our oxygen," Draco explained, showing them the tank.

The children's "oohs" and "aahs" made him laugh as he put on each individual piece in turn, explaining the functions. Granger watched him with growing fascination until he was fully dressed as though he were getting ready to run into a burning building. "Sometimes, we get hurt and our fellow firefighters have to get us out. Why don't you see if you can drag me?" he asked, laying on the ground.

It took four children to drag him only a short distance. They huffed and puffed and talked over each other once more as he stood. He heard Granger's chiming laugh break through the air. He smiled and began pulling each piece off, ending his demonstration and answering their questions in turn.

Granger stood idly by, watching his every move until the group of children moved along with their parents to get food. A few more children came up and he played the part of dedicated, child-loving firefighter, all the while screaming internally for everyone to leave so he could talk to her.

After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was probably a couple of hours, the children had moved along to the ladder truck and Draco adjusted his leather radio strap once more, the dispatchers soft voice and radio traffic from the nearby town buzzing in his ear. He walked up to where Granger was sitting on the back of the engine, waiting for him.

"You're different," she told him, her tone almost accusatory.

"Or perhaps I am just as I always have been. I had a role to play and as a child, I didn't know how _not_ to feel trapped in that role. But, surprise, Granger. I am a man now and I think for myself," he told her waving at the muggle vehicles and people all around him.

"I'm just…surprised is all," she replied, looking around once more as though she were seeing their surroundings for the first time. "I have no idea what we're doing here, Malfoy."

"This event is wrapping up. Would you like to take a ride around town with me in the engine? We could talk," he suggested.

"I'd like that," Granger told him, her smile now bashful.

"I need to help clean up. Can I pick you up in an hour?"

"Sure. I'm staying with my parents over on Hummingbird. 143," she told him, standing to walk back to her own car.

"143 Hummingbird. I'll be there. One hour."

Granger gave him a nod and he watched her walk away, his heart skipping a beat as she did. He felt himself being pulled to her like a moth to flame, his heart ablaze with fiery yearning. She was wearing a pair of summery trousers that fell just below the knee, a bright shade of blue with a lacy white shirt, cropped so her midsection showed just a bit. There was a sway in her hips that made him bite his lip and nearly groan with eager desire. If only he could have known she was his soulmate years ago. He would have had so much more time to get his heart in line with his soul and groin.

But didn't Granger pine for love and affection, just as he did? Was the ever-present fluttering in his chest his heart aligning with said soul and groin? He returned to where the last of the townspeople were thanking the men and lady of the station. He shook hands and spoke, though what he said, he could never be sure of. His actions were stiff and mechanical, his thoughts of nothing but Granger. He helped clean up the station's garden and got permission from Angus to take the engine for a ride.

"Want to impress your girl?" the chief laughed merrily.

"Something like that," Draco told him, grinning.

"Take it. But if we get a call, you respond. We'll meet you in the ladder."

Draco agreed and climbed into the rig. His hands shook as he made his way to Hummingbird Lane, but they weren't the only thing vibrating in anticipation. His magical core, intertwined with his soul, was dancing within him, aching to be united with hers.

He pulled in front of the home—a modern cottage surrounded by flowers. Granger was sitting on the front stair waiting for him. He hopped out and went around the truck to greet her at the fence. "Have you had a chance to visit more than just the bookstore?" he questioned teasingly.

She pursed her lips. "A little."

"Well, climb on in and I'll take you to my favorite spot in town," he told her, holding out his hand so she had something to brace herself on as she climbed up into the truck in her dainty shoes.

She settled herself in the passenger seat, looking all around as he sat beside her. "This is really…odd," she commented, lowering her gaze to his. "You. A muggle firefighter. Living without magic…"

"Not completely without. But I wanted to settle somewhere where no one would know who I was. I searched for a longtime for the perfect spot. There was _quite_ the adjustment period," he told her and she gripped the sides of her seat as he began to drive.

"I've never been this high up in a vehicle before," she said, by way of explanation.

"I'm the safest driver we have at the station," he told her, boasting only slightly.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see. So, tell me, Granger, when will you be heading home?" he asked, carefully watching the road.

He knew that if he looked over at her beside him, he would lose all control of that monstrous engine. She shifted in her seat, looking over at him. "Tonight. I'll apparate back to my flat in London."

"Ah. London. Still working for the Ministry then?" he asked, and even he could hear the slight condescension in his tone.

She nodded. "Yes, I am. Is that a problem?" she sniffed.

He laughed. "Not at all. I always figured you go on to become the Minister for Magic. You must be well on your way by now."

"You don't read the _Daily Prophet_?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head. "I get the paper here locally. My mother fills me in on occasion about the goings on back home."

"I do all right for myself, I suppose. So you enjoy living here more than the wizarding world, then?"

Draco thought for a moment. He had many fantastic memories of his childhood in Wiltshire, his early teens at Hogwarts. But the darker times toward the end of his stay in the wizarding world cast a shadow over the good times. He nodded slowly. "I do. It's calm and quiet. I've got a routine here and the peace…I relish it. I can get on my motorcycle and ride along the coast, catch a football game a few towns over. I love being a firefighter, helping people."

"No women in your life? No pretty muggle girls striking your fancy?" she asked, and Draco could tell she was trying to be teasing but there was an underlying strain in her voice.

He let out a breathy laugh. "No. I've casually seen a few, but they tend to be dull, these small-town girls."

"You don't want someone _routine_ to fit into your new routine life?"

Draco pulled the fire engine alongside the road and looked at her finally. "I want fire. One that burns so hot, it leaves you in a feverish frenzy when you part. All consuming. Ever smoldering."

"Spoken like a true firefighter," she smiled.

He shrugged and climbed down out of the rig. He went around to her side and helped her out. "Have you ever been here?" he asked, gesturing to their surroundings at the base of the cliffs.

She shook her head and he placed a hand on the small of her back to assist her down a worn path. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, setting shimmering lights to dance along the sea's swells. They walked along the cliff side path down to the beach and stopped a couple meters from the tide. "It's beautiful here," she commented, holding a hand on her chest as she stared out over the crashing waves.

"This is my favorite place in this world," he agreed. "It's the main reason I selected Winthrop's Wharf. Would you like to walk a little way? I can't stray too far from the truck."

Granger bent to slip off her shoes and walked forward to the water's edge. Draco ambled alongside her in the dry sand. He reached into his pocket and felt his color card. "I wanted to show you something," he said, retrieving it to display before her.

She raised an eyebrow and took it gently between her fingers. "But…I can see the colors on here."

Draco shrugged. "My mother gave this to me as a child. She always had these whimsical notions in her head. Of love. Of souls bonding. I never believed in any of it. Until I saw you."

"How can we see the colors on it?" she asked him, touching the crisp paper gingerly.

"My mother told me if I ever found my soulmate, our mingling magic would activate the card," he told her.

She touched the blue lightly. "That's it…that's the color that flecks in the greys of your eyes," she told him, smiling brightly up at him.

He grinned back. "Yours are brown," he said, pointing to it. "With little spots of gold."

Granger stopped walking and he came to rest in front of her. She held the card up to his tattooed arm, her mouth parting slightly as a fascinated look graced her features. She lifted a fingertip to touch his skin, hesitant. Draco swallowed hard, certain that she could hear his heart thumping just as loudly as he could over the waves, and lifted his arm so she could have unlimited access to it. She ran a fingertip over the silky skin, taking a moment longer over his masked Dark Mark. She circled her fingers around his wrist and turned his arm this way and that to inspect every inch. She pushed her tips up under his t-shirt sleeve. "Do they go all the way up?" she asked, looking up at his face.

Draco felt a smile play at his lips and he knew there would be a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he pulled his radio harness off and then pulled his station shirt up and over his head. Granger's eyes grew wide at the sight of him shirtless and he could see her internal battle as she fought to keep them only where color splashed over his flesh. His entire arm was covered and then up and over his shoulder and down onto one pectoral. She traced the outline of the rather fearsome looking dragon on his chest and shoulder and walked around his back to survey the way it wrapped his body. "Why so many?" she asked, not judging but genuinely curious.

"I started with one…and then, I thought of another…and another…and well, here I am," he shrugged as she completed her circling assessment of him.

"But you got them in color? How did you even know what colors would look decent?"

Draco laughed at her interrogation. "I told the artist that I'm colorblind and to use his best judgment."

"It's beautiful," she told him.

He smirked and put his shirt and harness back on. They stared at each other for another moment, assessing each other. Draco looked at the warm colors that made up her complexion, the different shades the sunset must have been igniting in her hair and eyes. "Yes, you are."

Her eyes shot up to his and he licked his lips, suddenly uncertain if he'd crossed a line. "Are we just going to ignore our history?" she asked, searching his face.

"It's called history for a reason. So that we learn from it and never repeat it again. I was wretched, and I know I could never make that up to you. But," he shifted on his feet anxiously, "I want to move forward with you. Try to make amends and clean the slate."

"You want it? Or your soul and magic want it?" she asked him skeptically.

Draco was silent a moment, considering her question. "I won't lie that the pull to you is undeniable. Right now, I can feel every nerve ending in my body standing at attention. Like the hairs on your arms when you're frightened, except it feels so _fucking_ exhilarating. But there's more. Watching you today as you interacted with people, lighter and more carefree than you ever had the chance to be at Hogwarts…I want to know _you_."

Granger's face stained with that intoxicating shade of rose and she worried her lip between her teeth as she fought a grin. "You _are_ different."

"Different good? Or different bad?" he teased.

"Definitely good," she replied with a laugh.

Draco's radio beeped in his ear and he nearly screamed in response, the moment lost. "Probie. Bring some spuds back with you. Devon's making homemade chips," Angus' voice said gruffly through the radio. "And hello to Draco's pretty lady friend."

Draco groaned and Granger laughed. "Let's head back, then," he said ruefully, pissed that Angus had ruined the magical moment.

They chatted a little more on the ride back to her house, but the tone of their meeting had changed. When Draco helped her out of the rig, he escorted her to the gate and she turned back to him. He felt sixteen again, walking Pansy to the door of the Slytherin girls' dorms after a date. If they had been allowed to continue their talk, unencumbered by his Chief, perhaps Draco could have gotten a kiss this evening.

But the shift in tone hampered that and he stood, leaning forward on the posts that made up her waist high gate. She pushed her hair behind her ear and looked at the ground between them. "I'll be back next weekend."

"You know where to find me," he told her.

Granger looked up at him, taking in his eyes once more before she nodded and turned to leave. Draco watched her go again, his entire being in a frenzy. He returned to the engine and climbed in. He put his forehead against the steering wheel and took in a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves and magic. He really needed to get started on that plan to woo her, because he didn't know how much longer his soul, his magic, or his mind would be able to live without her.

o-o-o

 _A/N: Isn't Draco just the cutest? Let us know what you think! Keep in mind, this is just a sweet short story, so it is going to move right along._


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: As always lovelies, thank you for the support for our little story! Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Hermione apparated into her parents' front garden on Friday evening, later than she usually arrived for their weekends together. She'd been held up at the Ministry and was slightly upset at the thought she hadn't been able to scan the stacks at Devya's that afternoon—her favorite weekend ritual.

She stepped onto the porch and could smell a delicious scent wafting through the open windows, making her mouth water. She opened the door and stepped into the warm, cozy cottage. "Mum? Dad?"

"We're in here!" her mother's voice called from the kitchen.

She removed her jumper and shoes and padded toward the kitchen, her stomach rumbling as the tantalizing aroma of dinner tickled her nostrils. "What is that smell? It's positively—"

Hermione stopped short when she entered the kitchen. Draco Malfoy's shock of white blond hair was shining under the lights, his back to her. He was wearing all black and had a dish towel draped over his shoulder. He was retrieving a pan of what appeared to be lasagna out of the oven. Draco placed the dish on the stovetop to cool and turned around.

The look he gave Hermione made her feel two very distinct things at the same moment: she wanted both to kiss him and kick him. He had a smirk on his face that could only be described as gorgeous, a twinkle in his eyes that let her know he knew exactly who her parents were and that he'd been expecting her. "Hermione! It's good to see you again," he chimed merrily, walking to where she was to place a cordial kiss on her cheek.

It was for show, this she knew. For some reason she couldn't quite understand, she got the feeling that he was trying to make a good impression on her parents. And she also knew instinctively that this was not the first time he'd been in their home. No matter, these details, for in the moment his lips brushed her cheek, their core magics sparked and danced between them, their souls crying out almost audibly.

Draco pulled his face back and his eyes bored into hers, surprise and intrigue evident. She cleared her throat. "Draco. What are you doing here…in my parents' home?" she croaked.

Her mother came up behind her and put her hands on her shoulders. "Hermione! Draco here told us that you had gone to school together once upon a time. How strange is it, for another magical person to be here in this small town?"

"How strange indeed," Hermione replied, her eyes following Draco as he went to the window and poked an apple pie with one finger, testing its crust for any crumbling.

"Draco came past on Monday and brought a goodie bag of treats to welcome us into the neighborhood!" her mother gushed, smiling at the handsome man's back.

"He's a dish, Hermione!" her mother whispered in her ear, overly excited at the prospect of her daughter catching someone so good looking and charming.

"Did you know that he's a firefighter here in town?" her father asked from his place at the kitchen table.

"I had heard rumors," Hermione said, silently thanking the gods that her parents hadn't been home to watch her climb into his engine the Sunday prior.

"He offered to come past and check that all of our smoke detectors are running efficiently this coming week," her mother commented and Draco gave her a smile.

"You can never be too prepared with fire safety," he told the room collectively.

A breeze blew in the window, bringing with it the smell of fresh cut grass, causing her father to sneeze. "Ah, these allergies! It nearly killed me to work in the garden today!" her father said, his nose stuffed and he excused himself.

"You know, Mrs. Granger, if it would be helpful to you both, I have plenty of free time on Friday evenings. I could come past and do the work out in the garden for you," Draco offered sweetly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and he raised an eyebrow in her direction, a sly half-grin spreading across his face. He was definitely trying to play up his charm and he was absolutely trying to plan spending time here around when she would be visiting. Who was this strange version of Draco Malfoy? Where was the slimy little git from second year?

"You don't have to do that, son," Mr. Granger said, coming back into the room with a bottle of nasal spray.

"It would be no problem, really. I already take care of Mrs. Fryzel's garden two streets over. It's part of being a member of this community—we look after each other," Draco told him.

"Well," Mr. Granger looked at his wife who gave him a subtle nod toward Hermione, "that would be mighty helpful."

"My pleasure," Draco told them, placing a baking sheet of garlic bread into the oven.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and he stared at her a moment longer before dragging his eyes away from hers. "Mrs. Granger, why don't you show Hermione what I brought on Monday? I think she'll get a good laugh out of them."

"Oh! I nearly forgot!" Mrs. Granger rushed from the room.

Hermione looked around at the scene before her, wonderment filling her. Draco Malfoy was standing in her muggle parents' kitchen, fixing Italian cuisine and pleasing the trousers off her father. He looked smug, pleased with his own antics as he pulled a bottle of wine from the ice chest.

Mr. Granger retrieved four wine glasses and set them around the kitchen table with the other dishes. Mrs. Granger returned from their room, a small stack of photographs in her hand. "Draco brought us some photos from your years at Hogwarts, dear. Come, have a look," her mother said, patting the table's surface next to her.

Hermione furrowed her brow, thoroughly confused as to how Draco would have photographs of her. She sat next to her mum and pulled the pile closer to herself. There was a single shot of her with Harry and Ron in second year, right after she'd been unpetrified, smiling wide. She looked up to Draco and he was watching her, his smug grin gone and genuine nervousness painted all over his alabaster features.

"How did you get these?" she asked him, turning to the next in the pile—a shot of her speaking with Professor Lupin shortly after he'd recovered from a full moon.

"Dennis Creevey. He owed me a favor and I cashed in on it by asking him to scour his brother's collection for any containing you," he shrugged.

Hermione wondered what kind of favor a Creevey could owe to Malfoy, but she decided now wasn't the time to ask. She took a moment to mourn the loss of the eldest Creevey boy, trying desperately not to picture him lifeless. Draco stood behind her and placed a hand between her shoulders—a small act of solidarity. _He understood._

There was a photo of her from fourth year, dressed for the Yule Ball. "Gorgeous," her mother said.

"Very pretty," Draco agreed.

Hermione continued to flip through the photos, tears stinging her eyes as she did. Her mother and father looked over the photographs and she knew they could see them all depicted in color. Her mother got choked up at a photo of Hermione at the end of fifth year, sitting up in a hospital bed as she recovered from a curse Dolohov had sent her way. "There was so much we'd forgotten. So many pieces we couldn't put together—little glimmers of memories we couldn't fully recall. Like déjà vu," she explained, putting her hand over her daughter's as she wiped her eyes.

Hermione put an arm around her mum and kissed her cheek. "Please don't cry," she told her. "I never meant for this to happen."

"You did, though," Mr. Granger sighed. "And you kept us alive—we owe our lives to you, my brave girl."

Hermione felt her heart swell at her father's words, tears dripping over her cheeks. From the corner of her eye, she saw Draco slip away from where the small family was huddled, intent on checking his bread to busy himself and give them a moment. She wondered if he understood how touching his gift really was, the missing puzzle pieces he was threading together for her parents. The idea that he would do something so selfless was humbling and she felt a pull toward him and a respect for him that had nothing to do with the soulmates' bond in that moment.

She stood, handing the rest of the photos to her mother and walked to where he was. She took his hand a tugged, turning him toward her. Hermione threw her arms around Draco's neck, hugging him tightly to herself. He melted into her, wrapping his arms around her, returning the gesture. "Thank you," she whispered to him, kissing his jaw.

He simply nodded into her and she stepped back. The sleeves of his black button down shirt were rolled up to his elbows, the swath of color on his arm bright as she ran her hands down his arms to rest in his. She gave both hands a squeeze before she dropped them. When she turned back toward her parents, they were watching her. Her father had one eyebrow raised and her mother was beaming as she wiped a late tear from her eye.

Draco cleared his throat and a wide smile stretched across his face. "Dinner is ready," he told them all.

Hermione watched as he brought the dish of lasagna and bread to the table, a simple salad tossed in a bowl as well. Draco moved with ease as he served everyone and Hermione found she couldn't tear her eyes away from the mysterious man. During dinner, he offered comical stories of his childhood, interesting stories of events he'd encountered with the fire station, his reasoning behind selecting Winthrop's Wharf as a place to settle down. Her parents were absolutely smitten with him, and though she was initially irritated by his efforts, she found herself equally as smitten.

Draco Malfoy was the epitome of properly groomed. He was interesting, carrying pleasant conversation but also inclusive of the others. He had manners unlike any she'd ever seen, waiting on the three of them in their home as though he were a paid waiter. He was able to keep up with talk of football with her father and of gardening with her mother. He was intelligent and well put together. Hermione found herself intrigued by the man, wanting nothing more than to get even closer to him.

After they'd each eaten a piece of the apple pastry he'd baked, he took the dishes up and washed them all by hand. Hermione's mother leaned into her. "Hermione, this boy is Prince Charming! I don't know why you ever dated Roland—"

"Ronald—"

"I don't care. Draco is every woman's wish for their daughter," her mother told her. "And I see the way you look at him."

Her mother was giving her a knowing smile and her father was eyeing the mother and daughter duo with amusement. "Draco, my boy," he said loudly.

"Yes, sir?" Draco called over his shoulder.

"Stop washing dishes. You're a guest in our home and I feel like you've done too much already. Let Jean and I get those. Why don't you and Hermione go out into the back garden? Perhaps you two can catch up on everything that's happened since school," Mr. Granger suggested.

Draco tried to protest but her father put up a final hand and a push away from the sink-load of dinner plates. He gave Hermione a look and she rose from the table, feeling her heart pattering erratically. They were going out alone and she knew her parents would not bother her—they were trying to get them alone together in hopes they would be taken with each other. If they only knew the half of it.

As Draco led her to the swing, hanging in an archway climbing with roses, Hermione slipped her hand within his. "I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done," she told him quietly.

"It's really nothing," he shrugged modestly.

They sat in the swing and he used his long legs to push and pull them gently. His arm was stretched behind her, his hand brushing her curls in a way that let her know he was purposely touching her. Hermione didn't know what it was, the soulmates' bond or her overwhelming newfound fondness for him, but she felt compelled to cuddle into him. She drew her legs underneath of her and leaned into his chest. He curled his arm around her and she felt as though this was absolutely the way things were meant to be.

"How laughable that you and I should end up with the strongest possible bond between two magical beings after so many years of turmoil," he mentioned quietly.

"The Fates have a strange sense of humor," she replied with a nod against him.

"Can I tell you something, Hermione?" he asked and she noticed that his heart had started beating rapidly against where she leaned into him.

She leaned up to look at his face, the sudden change in his tone evident enough to cause her to worry. "Anything," she confirmed.

"It's not only the bond," he told her, looking up from the column of her neck to her large inquisitive eyes. "I am genuinely interested in you. You are fascinating and I find myself thinking of your strong will, witty personality and beautiful face every moment of every day."

Hermione looked into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity. He was telling her the absolute truth and she knew she was the exact same—she thought of his face first thing each morning and last thing before she fell into slumber each night. Draco's eyes flickered to her lips and his tongue darted out subconsciously to wet his own. Her heart was thudding swiftly and she knew his intentions before he put them into effect. And she wanted to meet him with equal fervor.

He brought this hand up to her neck tenderly and she leaned forward into him. Their lips met halfway in a soft brush. Their magical cores, their souls, began to thrum within them and Hermione could feel spastic energy coursing through her veins. Though her hands weren't shaking, she felt as though every nerve in her body was vibrating as he slid his tongue between her lips. As soon as she parted her lips, giving him access, the kiss went from slow and tender to heated and passionate.

Draco threaded one hand into the curls at the base of her neck and pulled her closer as his other hand held her by the waist, drawing her against himself. She ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and then into his hair, becoming desperate to fill the gap between them. A slight rumble sounded at the back of his throat and she met it with a whimper of her own.

Her entire body was tingling, magic palpable in the air surrounding them. Hermione lost all ability to think of anything except the man currently devouring her. He admitted he wanted her and she knew she wanted him as well. There was very little question about it—he was snuggling himself right into her heart. Her very own Prince Charming.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: Let us begin with overwhelming gratitude for you, our dear readers. One hundred reviews, four chapters. Not sure if 'thrilled beyond measure' really covers it all._

 _As for the delay in this update, illness, lack of sleep and stress all played a factor in delaying the finished product. We can only offer our humblest thanks for your patience. This is the first chapter in which the combined writing talents (feels a bit egotistical to write that about ourselves) of OtterlyArdent and TheMourningMadam coalesce._

 _We're both over-the-moon-excited about this chapter. This is the chapter we've both envisioned from the start._

 _As always, we do not own Harry Potter. This is fanfiction. No monetary profit is being made. We're paid in reviews._

 _Onward._

* * *

Draco woke slowly, the ether of dreams slipping away as his other senses heightened his awareness level. Breathing deeply through his nose, he could smell it; a sweet yet musky, wet scent carried along on the breeze. The air crackled, heavily charged, and Draco felt the fine hairs on his arms prickling; standing erect as a cold shiver ran down his spine.

A storm was coming.

After a brisk shower filled with thoughts of Hermione and a quick wank when said thought roused his sleeping cock, Draco dressed quickly before gathering his gear and safely stashing his wand in his boot. Then racing to his bike, he studied the dark clouds blowing in and the ominous strikes of wicked light out over deep water, he might barely make it into the station before the sky opened on Winthrop's Wharf. The first large droplets pelted his muscular form as he pulled into the station's lot.

As soon as he entered the station, he could feel it. A subtle thrum of nervous anticipation. A slow smirk spread across his mouth as he nodded in greeting to the guys and gal, confident that instinct was driving the tense sets of shoulders and twitchy ears. Draco wasted no time pulling on his gear. Everyone knew the call was coming. It was only a matter of when.

Sheets of rain poured from the heavens, and the sound echoing around the firehouse held an eerie quality that seemed to make his skin itch. The pale wizard let out a low, aggravated groan. His pulse was elevated, and his guts were churning with nerves. He hadn't felt this way since his probie days. Draco tried to battle the out-of-character emotions coursing through him with the delightful memory of Hermione's lips moving tantalisingly against his own. And when his chest constricted in an almost painful way at the thought, Draco squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing.

The storm simply had him on edge, and it was normal to worry about the safety of those important to you when the weather turns dangerous. With his swirling silver eyes still closed, Draco imagined her under her mother's throw blanket with a book in her hand, safe, warm, and happy with her parents. It didn't erase his unsettled feelings or erase the chill of foreboding he felt in the face of the angry storm battering his sleepy little town.

* * *

Not even the deluge could dampen the brilliant smile on a petite brunette's lips as she entered Devya's shop. With an extra skip in her step and a wave to the bookshop owner - who had a knowing grin playing on her lips – she disappeared into the stacks, happier than she'd ever been before. Devya shook her head, amusement sparkling in her eyes. A rumble of thunder, loud and ominous shook the windows at the front of the store.

Wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself to ward off the sudden chill in her veins, Devya cast a look over her shoulder in the direction Hermione went, but the brunette was already lost in the labyrinth of books. Turning her attention to the storm raging outside the window, the shopkeeper grimaced at the sheets of rain slanting oddly down Main Street. She briefly shut her eyes and sent up a silent plea to the Heavens above for safety through the onslaught.

Devya had just turned to follow Hermione, feeling rattled and jittery from the storm, when a crack so loud echoed around her she had no choice but to shriek in fear, duck and cover. After several panicked heartbeats, Devya opened her eyes, which had slammed shut of their own accord, but saw nothing amiss. Feeling more than a little foolish, she carried on, intent on riding out the storm in the company of her friend.

Hermione had startled at the deafening crack, unprepared for the loud noise or rush of static through the air. A smell like burning wire assaulted her senses, and she surmised a strike of lightning had been very, very close. Her heart beat a fast and furious rhythm against her sternum, while she tried to temper her fight or flight response. Setting a calming hand above her breasts, Hermione took a few deep breaths before turning her attention back to the shelves.

Both women were still incredibly on edge as thunder seemed to rattle their very bones, the rumbles seemingly never-ending. Devya sped her pace, winding through the stacks unable to shake her rapidly mounting unease. "Hermione?" she called out nervously, having a good idea of where the brunette was located but unwilling to take the chance of being wrong. "Back here, Dev!" Hermione's voice came from several aisles back and to the left, just as she had assumed.

Hearing Devya's voice offered Hermione a false sense of security, what unease she was battling seeped away hearing her friend's voice. Soon she'd no longer be alone, and she could laugh with Dev at their mutual fright. A small chuckle escaped her at the thought. She trailed her fingers lovingly over the spine of poetry by T.S. Eliot, but her excited grin turned into a grimacing frown as the tangy, woodsy odor of smoke tickled her nose.

Straightening her spine, and pulling the book off the shelf, Hermione let her eyes dance up and down the aisle where she was located. No visible smoke. She sniffed, then sneezed as her sinuses burned at the assault. "Devya?" Hermione yelled, her tone wary and back on edge. A creak sounded above her, and she slowly lifted her eyes to the ceiling.

"Almost there, luv!" Devya called back, desperately pushing the anxiety engulfing her mind away. She too could smell something burning, and close. Too close for comfort. "Christ Almighty," she muttered, breaking into a run.

Hermione's magic was quivering, her first clear warning of the danger they were facing. Licking her suddenly dry lips, the petite witch took off at a brisk pace knowing instinctively that she needed to flee, now. Her eyes swept along the ceiling nervously as a mournful, inhuman groan came from above. "Fuck," Hermione breathed. She could feel beads of sweat forming on her brow, and to her mounting horror realized the normally drafty bookshop felt stiflingly hot.

Devya had come to the same terrifying conclusion as Hermione, and her breath caught in relief as her eyes fell on Hermione's form about a hundred feet away. She was certain her face was just as pale as her friend's, but her wide and horrified amber eyes locking on her own would haunt her for the rest of her life. Another rumble tore through the air, and both women wobbled on unsteady legs as a slight, but growing tremor began making itself known.

They froze. Only for a moment, to get a feel for where the danger was getting ready to strike. Another ungodly sounding crack, so like that of the lightning strike both women momentarily thought it was still the raging storm outside, and then a roar that stopped Hermione's heart. She'd heard the animalistic sounding rage of a blazing fire before, after all.

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat as her eyes traced the rapidly spreading cracks above her. A moment of terror induced clarity chased away all unnecessary thought, and Hermione whipped her wand out of the holster strapped to her wrist. Dev was still frozen and trembling in fear, watching the destruction spread. Hermione ran full out, her thoughts solely on reaching her friend and apparating both to safety. As she'd proven once before, Hermione held no fear of obliviating someone if it saved their life.

One moment Hermione's feet were pounding toward Dev before her blood-curdling scream hit the witch like a brick to the chest. Then sharp, excruciating pain on her right side. Her wand slipped from her grip the second the falling debris clipped her shoulder and knocked her forcefully to the ground. She heard a shriek of her name before her skull slammed against the floor with a sickening thud. Her eyes closed of their own volition against the blinding pain. Sweltering heat coursing through the air around her was the last thing of which she was aware. A devilish heat. Crackling heat. Fire.

Panic seized Devya's chest as her feet carried her forward, knowing her dear friend could do nothing to avoid injury. Licking flames slithered around them, hissing in tongues that scarred every inch of everything they touched. A desperate sob broke free from her chest; her eyes burned with tears that had nothing to do with the smoke. "HERMIONE!" Devya screeched as loudly as she could, and felt her throat burn against the strain.

Noxious smoke held absolutely no pity on her lungs, and the coughing that overcame her shook her frame with vicious force. "Oh God," Devya whimpered, as she stumbled to the floor by Hermione's side. "Oh, Hermione," her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry," she cried while tugging on the smoldering debris frantically. It was so heavy, it barely moved, and her quaking certainly didn't help. Coughing and blinking away her tears, Devya felt her heart break when Hermione weakly groaned, the shifting debris sending shockwaves of pain throughout her body.

"Wake up, Hermione. You gotta wake up, luv," Devya croaked, changing her tactic and pulling Hermione's free arm, desperately hoping to free her that way. She only succeeded in tugging her unconscious form an inch or two back the way she came. "Fuck!" Devya screamed, the blistering heat leaving her skin feeling stretched and raw. "Come on! I can't leave you, luv!" Another round of bone-rattling coughing left her gasping for breath. However, there was no longer any clean air to suck in by the lungful.

As her guilt-ridden sobs began, Devya reached across Hermione and lifted the collar of her shirt up over her mouth and nose, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Devya quickly covered her own before swearing, "I'm going to get help, Hermione. Draco's on his way, luv. I know exactly where we are and he will, too. He'll get you out, Hermione. I know he will."

* * *

Draco had just finished his coffee and half-eaten toast when the alarms rang shrilly through the station. His cup hit the floor, shattering as he snapped to attention and took off at a sprint, meeting his crew at the lockers. Details were crackling over the coms, enticing the adrenaline already surging through their veins. Lightning strike, 423 Main. Fast-spreading fire. Already engulfed more than one floor.

Draco was half-listening, hurriedly throwing on the remainder of his gear, which is why it took him a moment longer than it should. "Devya," he breathed, swallowing down his fear for his friend and fondness for the bookshop. After all, it's where he found Hermione. One more breath to settle the fear and grief, and then Draco shut it all out. His skill with occulemency was a great advantage for Draco; it made it much easier to shut off his emotional responses and do what must be done.

Piling onto and into the rig, Draco blocked out the excited chatter around him. It was a large fire, something they rarely experienced in the sleepy cove. Instead, he did his checks, made sure his equipment was functioning properly and focused on his magical core, pulsing a slow, steady current through his very being. It never failed to center and calm him. He needed the calm, knowing his friend was in mortal peril. Draco pulled on his helmet, the sirens screaming in his ears, and closed his eyes. He ran through his brief cache of memories of Hermione shining with a brilliance that would forever leave him in awe of her glory. Warmth spread from his chest outward and through his limbs, the mere thought of his witch leaving him burning for her.

As the rig slowed to a stop, Draco felt the energy around him change with a dreadful suddenness. One look at the scene and he understood. The fire was a sinuous beast, roaring and demonic. His heart clenched in his chest as a weary groan came from the structure, knowing the building was a loss. Wailing screams captured his attention as the linemen began unspooling the hoses and his relief was sharp and short-lived as his eyes fell on Devya. Liam Bradbury, from the shop across from Devya's, held the extremely distraught, soot-covered woman back from running back into the flames.

Draco's legs carried him to her side without much thought, the cacophony of the fire, sirens, and screams blending into nonsensical sounds of terror. "Devya, thank fuck! I was so worried about you," he called out over the din. Her wild-eyed gaze narrowed on Draco and Devya lurched forward, breaking through Liam's restraining hold. Her hands thumped hard against his shoulders, and Draco brought his hands to her hips to steady her.

"Draco! Oh god, Draco!" Devya sobbed, clawing at his chest. "She's trapped in there. Oh, god. Oh…" the rapid rise and fall of her chest, along with her persistent, wheezing cough worried Draco. "Hey, hey," he soothed while motioning for oxygen, "Just breathe, Dev. Breathe." Draco's words were careful and controlled, but something deep inside him cracked at her words. And when her eyes left him, focusing on the nightmare behind him, cold seeped into his heart when she opened her mouth and screamed, "HERMIONE!"

Draco hadn't truly experienced the icy grip of terror squeezing his heart since the Dark Lord held his wand on the young, blonde wizard's mother, ordering Dumbledore's demise in exchange for Narcissa's safety. But the moment he realized Hermione was still inside the burning building, it hit him full force like ice in his veins. "Where?" he demanded, giving Dev a sharp shake to bring her attention back to him.

Angus, hearing Draco, turned his attention to the pair - his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Poetry, back left," Devya whimpered, her tears mixing with the slowing rain. "She was unconscious and trapped under debris when I had to leave her." Draco's eyes snapped to Angus's, burning with fierce determination. Angus barely had time to shake his head and call out, "Malfoy, don't!" before Draco turned and rushed through the open door.

Barely pausing, Draco pulled his wand from his boot. "Defensionem Fumi!" he murmured, clearing the smoke in the direction his wand was pointing. The oppressive heat barely registered in Draco's mind as he assuredly made his way through the roaring flames around him, toward the back stacks where he knew Hermione lay unconscious. He couldn't lose her. Not like this, not now, when they had only just found one another.

Everything beyond the blinding flames was murky and dark, without his spell, the heavy smoke would greatly obscure his vision. Even with his magic, his eyes were straining for any sign of Hermione. Draco dodged a falling rafter and felt his heart twist painfully. It was taking him too long, especially with her injured and trapped inhaling toxic smoke and ash into her lungs. Draco refused to think about what would happen if he arrived too late.

Just as panic began to quicken his breathing and his heart started to crack and fissure at the edges, Draco spotted a dim aura of color through the haze of smoke and fire. He doubled his speed, knowing his witch was close, having eyes on her position brought him a small modicum of peace. But nothing could ever have prepared him for the onslaught of emotion that hit him when his eyes finally fell on her dangerously still form. A non-verbal Wingardium Leviosa immediately removed the damned debris that had crushed her.

Draco had Hermione in his arms within three beats of his thundering heart. Beginning the treacherous retracing of his steps, Draco shifted so he could point his wand to her chest, "Rennervate!" Swallowing back a wave of sick, he pulled off his oxygen mask and placed it over her mouth and nose. Draco was nearly knocked over by a swell of gratitude and outright affection for Devya, having thought to cover his witch's face, in an attempt to prolong her life.

"Stay with me, Hermione," Draco begged, twisting and turning away from devilish, licking flames. Holding what breath he had left, he shared the mask with the witch in his arms, only when necessary. When he found their path relatively clear, Draco scanned her limp frame, quickly taking inventory of her injuries and burns. Luckily she seemed relatively unscathed, at least for the moment.

The entire building had been engulfed by the flames; debris crashed all around them. Draco could only rejoice when his eyes fell upon a steady stream of glowing light at the front of the store. Thirty more seconds and he'd have her out. Then he would allow his clawing worry and concern run wild. Tightening his hold on Hermione, Draco ran full out for the exit.

"I think I can see something!" he heard someone shout moments before they emerged from the inferno.

Draco kicked the tilting front door the rest of the way off the hinges, quickly stowing his wand back in his boot as he collapsed to his knees on the sidewalk a safe distance from the flames. The rain had stopped completely now, though he couldn't see where the plumes of smoke ended and the swirling clouds began. His eyes quickly scanned her broken form as she lay on the concrete walkway, stripping off his helmet, oxygen tank and fire-retardant coat. He placed his ear next to her nose and mouth and a hand over her heart.

His sweet witch, this blessing that had skipped so strangely into his life, was no longer drawing any of the world's oxygen into her lungs. He felt his heart stop as he tried to throw up his Occlumens abilities and block out the fact that this patient was the love of his life. His beautiful, resplendent, vivacious love.

The paramedics were rushing over to her just as Draco tilted her head back and opened her mouth to begin CPR. "Malfoy, let us take it from here, mate," one of the paramedics told him.

Draco was deaf to the protestations of the medical staff. He was breaking about ten protocols by performing any method of medical assistance, but he didn't care. "Leave him!" Angus commanded somewhere behind him. "That's his girl. Go ahead and get a line started in her arm!"

Draco used the heels of his hands to pump at her breastplate, counting to thirty. Each sickening crack of her sternum or ribs brought him one step closer to vomiting as he wandlessly and mentally said the spells to mend the broken bones before they would crack once more. He brought his lips to hers, giving her the prescribed two solid breaths of air, his hands shaking as he pinched her nose and held her chin.

The paramedics moved around to her other side, cutting her shirt sleeve all the way up. He had about two seconds to realize that her Mudblood scar was on that arm. The female paramedic's face screwed up at the sight of it, but she quickly composed herself and cleaned her forearm, searching for a viable vein to begin an intravenous line. Draco did another round of thirty compressions, mending and rebreaking the bones as he went. As he was administering the first of two breaths, Hermione drew in a rattling breath of her own.

Relief washed over Draco as he looked down at her and for the first time, noticed long paths traced into the soot covering her face. It wasn't raining any longer, and she was unconscious. It took him a long moment to realize that the streaks had come from his tears, falling as he had administered lifesaving breaths into his witch's delicate body. He leaned forward, running his hands behind her head to feel how damaging the bump to her head had been. He drew back a hand covered in blood but noted that it didn't seem to be pooling around her. He silently mended whatever cut may be back there so it wouldn't continue to seep. He felt down her neck to verify it had no serious injuries and then assessed every inch of her he could grasp.

When the others began to cut off a bit of melted denim from her legs, he saw that she had some minor burns, but nothing immediately life-threatening. Draco collapsed back onto his haunches, sobs of relief racking his body. Angus came to his side, putting his hand under his brother's arms and helping lift him to his feet. "Come on, Draco. They've got to get her onto the gurney."

"She's alive," Draco was able to croak out, wiping at his blackened face with the backs of his hands.

Angus smiled widely and grasped Draco's cheek harshly. "She's alive because of you, you crazy fucker! You disobeyed a direct order from your Chief and ran into that building! You could have been killed!" he bellowed, grabbing Draco into another tight hug. "Fucking mental bastard!"

Draco could only give a weak laugh at his Chief's beratement. He glanced to where the paramedics were lifting Hermione on a backboard onto the stretcher. "I'm going with her."

Angus nodded. "Go. We can manage here," he told the blond wizard.

Draco noticed for the first time that fire engines had come from the two neighboring towns to assist in the efforts and the restaurant next to Devya's had burned nearly as badly. Draco looked for the plump bookstore owner and spotted her sitting with a Fire Investigator, explaining what happened. He had no idea how to ever repay her for saving Hermione's life.

The medics got Hermione into the back of the ambulance and Draco climbed in with them, sitting alongside her. He took her tiny hand in his own, pushing her hair back away from her face as the female medic used a hand-powered breathing valve to fill Hermione's weakened lungs slowly. "She's not breathing on her own regularly yet."

Draco pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it, feeling the hot splash of his tears once more as they streamed down his caked and dirtied face. The smell of incineration, blood and hopeless despair filled his nostrils, and he refused to be brought back to the Final Battle at Hogwarts. He needed to stay present for Hermione now. He held his lips against her hand, his heart feeling as though it were being torn apart. "Please stay with me, love. Please. We've only just begun."

He clung to her hand like a man drowning. His eyes scanned all of the machines around, searching her vitals. Her heart rate was slow and ragged, but present. Draco knew he needed to get her to St. Mungo's. These muggles were amazing at what they did, but there were some things magic could handle much more efficiently. He resigned himself to apparating them both out of the ambulance. He looked at the female paramedic and locked eyes with her pitying blue ones. _"Obliviate!"_ he whispered, and the girl's hand slipped from the breathing valve as she collapsed back against the wall of the ambulance, knocking down a cabinet filled with glass vials. She was unconscious, and Draco felt his stomach clench at the shit storm he had just resigned himself to creating. The Ministry officials were going to kill him.

He held Hermione's hand, and they were instantly in the wizarding hospital's lobby. Healers and medi-witches immediately surrounded them, levitating Hermione up and running down the hall with her. Draco ran alongside her, and when they got her to a bed, the lead Healer pushed him out of the room. "I don't even know what to ask about what you're wearing, where you've been hiding, why you've shown up here with an injured Hermione Granger. But I'm calling the Aurors!"

"Dra-co," came Hermione's gentle croak from the bed.

He looked at her and felt a soaring in his heart at the sound. "Do what you must, but I am _not_ leaving her!" he told the Healer, retrieving his wand and pointing it at her in one fell swoop.

The witch glared at him and backed up slightly, watching as he rushed back to Hermione's side. Her pretty eyes fluttered open as the team of Healers flitted around her. Draco sank to his knees alongside the bed, the closest Healer moving out of the way to allow him access. Hermione reached weakly in his direction, and he took her hand once more, leaning forward to push her damp and ash filled curls away from her forehead. "Oh, love…I never thought I'd see those pretty brown eyes open again. I have never been so frightened in my life."

"Did he say _brown_?" came the whisper of someone behind him.

"Does that mean—"

"He can see her in color?"

Draco ignored all of the whispers behind him as he brought his lips to hers. Hermione lifted her other hand to his jaw. "You saved me," she told him quietly.

"We've saved each other. I absolutely love you, Hermione. Not the soulmates bond, not the pull of your magic and soul to mine, not because you're so vibrantly beautiful. I love _you_ ," he confessed, hoping she felt the same despite the short time they'd been together.

"I love you, too, Draco," she said sweetly, putting her head back into the pillows once more and grasping his hand to squeeze it.

* * *

 _Endnotes: We sincerely hope you love it as much as we do. Be a doll, and please, leave a review?_


	6. Chapter 6

_Authors' Notes: The Madam and the Otter do extend their sincerest of apologies for not getting this out in a timely fashion-life caught up to us. We are both incredibly humbled and pleased with the love this story of ours has received thus far. Thank you for sticking by our sides through this tale of ours!_

 _ALSO, if you haven't already acquainted yourselves with the work of one illustrious **Mrs. Ren** , you need to do so ASAP. The Red String of Fate here on ffn, or, to tickle your loins, there is a story by the name of Getting Even on AO3 that is some of the smuttiest smut that ever smutted. Seriously, so good. Check her out-we highly recommend!_

* * *

It should have come as no surprise to Draco, holding a vigil at Hermione's bedside – unwilling to take more than a step away from her, when the raised voices of Potty and the Weasel reached his ears. A small groan escaped him, and he tightened his hold on Hermione's hand just as the two idiots barged through the door.

"Hermione!" Potter's frantic shout, enough to startle his witch awake was immediately followed by a significant silence. Hermione's chocolate eyes blinked blearily at the intruders, while the three men in the room shared hostile glares.

"Harry? Ron?" Hermione murmured sleepily. "What are you doing here?"

"The healers said they were going to call the Aurors when I showed up with you, love," Draco murmured, his frustration and hurt audible in his tone.

"I'm not even going to touch on -," Harry waved vaguely in Draco's direction. "Why the hell you're dressed as a muggle fireman, and excuse me, but did you just call Hermione…love?" Ron, for his part, just stared at the scene playing out in front of him, steadily turning green around the gills. Both Aurors turned their questioning gaze to Hermione, who stared back at her friends with incredulity painted all over her features.

"Wouldn't it be more appropriate, Potter, to ask your best friend if she's okay? She only survived a horrendous fire earlier today."

"Oh yes, I'm aware. Do you have any idea the kind of mess you left for me to clean up, Malfoy?" Emerald green eyes narrowed to slits as Harry glared at Draco. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking? You obliviated a paramedic on route to the hospital, and apparated away, with the driver STILL DRIVING! You can't be that stupid!"

"Harry," Hermione's voice softly interjected, not only to calm the escalating tension but also because her throat felt like she had swallowed broken glass from inhaling so much smoke.

"No, Hermione, I'll come back around to you," Harry seethed, not taking his eyes off the pale ferret at her bedside.

"No, Harry – you don't," Hermione began but was cut off.

"What did you expect me to do, Potter? Let her die?" Draco asked, holding Harry's heated gaze. "She wasn't breathing on her own completely, her vitals were," the pale wizard paused, swallowed thickly and then shook his head. "Not good, to say the very least. Can you honestly tell you wouldn't have done the same thing if you were in my position? She needed the Healers here. Muggles can do some incredible things, Potter, but Hermione needed magical healing, and I couldn't lose her."

"Couldn't lose her?" Ron wheezed, looking seriously ill. "I'm so lost."

"What, like that's new?" Draco deadpanned, brushing his thumb across the hand encapsulated within his own.

"Draco!" Hermione affectionately admonished. "Be nice."

"It's Malfoy," Harry grunted. "He doesn't understand what nice is."

"Harry!" Hermione warned, feeling heat beginning to creep up her chest and neck. She was getting angry; Harry had no reason to be acting like such a little shit.

"What, Hermione?!" Harry thundered. "Do you have any idea how terrified we were when we got the call? All I could imagine was you broken, bleeding or dead. And then -," he paused as he expelled a large breath through flared nostrils, reminding both Draco and Hermione of an angry bull. "Then we're told Malfoy of all people has brought you into St. Mungo's. That he was the one to save you from a burning building and that they weren't entirely sure you hadn't been Imperiused because the two of you seemed to be madly in love!"

"Well, maybe we are!" Hermione hoarsely shouted, causing Draco to sit back, a slow smirk twisting his lips as he watched horror twist The Boy Who Lives To Be A Pain In His Arse and the freckled git's faces. "I most certainly have not been Imperiused, as if I'd ever allow that to happen. Shame on you for even considering it."

Hermione was fuming, her lithe frame was trembling slightly with rage and quite possibly residual adrenaline from the trauma she'd survived. "And for your information, Harry James Potter, Draco _is_ a muggle firefighter. He works harder than we do, saving lives every single day. Muggle lives, Harry. He knows every single person who lives in town and has a good, genuine relationship with them. He volunteers to mow grass for those who can't, he drops off food for the elderly so that they won't go hungry, and he saved me today, Harry. Single-handedly. He was the only one who would enter the bookstore. You're being so unfair," Her voice broke, and she bit her bottom lip as she ducked her head, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone. Finally, after several shaky breaths and Draco quickly brushing away the tears she couldn't hold back, Hermione whispered, "You don't know him like I do, Harry."

"One of the healers mentioned you saying something about her brown eyes. How in the bloody hell can you possibly know that, Malfoy?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes as though the only plausible answer was that the blond had cursed the witch in question.

"I have seen her as you've only dreamt of, you red-headed pimple on the arse of wizarding society," Draco began, his patience wearing thin. "All of those stories we are told as children, all of the folklore—it's all true. Granger, in all her resplendent hues of gold and brown and pink, is my soulmate."

"'Mione?" Ron breathed, aghast. His eyes were comically large, and he looked as if he'd been kicked in the groin. Harry stared at Draco in open-mouth shock, his slowly blinking eyes never wavering from Draco's.

"It's true," she whispered, turning so she could look into her wizard's eyes. "Every time I look at Draco, it's like the world has finally come to life, and I'm only just now realizing it's been slumbering all along." Draco tenderly cupped her cheek, offering his most disarming smile and her lips immediately lifted in response.

"Harry," Ron croaked. His face had turned a morbid shade of mottled purple, and he forced his next words through clenched teeth, "I need to take a walk." He missed Hermione's wince and grimace, Draco's murderous sneer, and the panicked widening of Harry's eyes, because Ron turned on the spot and stormed from the room without another word.

"Right," Harry slowly drawled, at a loss for words. "So," he crossed his arms and stared up at the ceiling. "You two ran into each other In Winthrop's Wharf, for the first time after becoming of age and realized that you were…" he hefted a long, drawn-out sigh. "Soulmates," he concluded flatly.

"Yes, that's exactly what I just said, Potter," Draco bit back. "I must say, Snape would be impressed with how you're listening skills have improved."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and let loose a pained-sounding whine, "For the love of all things, Malfoy, please shut up. I'm trying to wrap my mind around this, and I don't want to upset Hermione anymore than I already have." Finally lowering his eyes to meet theirs once more, Harry's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I was scared half to death and I over-reacted. I won't pretend to be thrilled beyond measure," his green eyes flickered to meet Malfoy's steely grey gaze. "But – well, that's incredible. Soulmates. Wow. And Malfoy, I can't thank you enough for saving my best friend. She's the closest thing I've got to a sister, and I'd be lost without her."

Both men had trouble swallowing down the emotions ravaging them at the moment, but Draco managed a nod of acknowledgement and held out his free hand to Potter. Hermione watched with no small amount of apprehension as Harry stared at the proffered hand, almost a mirror image of the pair from their first night at Hogwarts. Another long-suffering sigh later, Harry clasped Malfoy's hand in his own and gave it a rough shake.

"Can't rightly hate you now," he groused. "Since being a bloody hero is your day job."

"Damn, Potter," Draco joked. "You figured out my evil plan."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of Draco Malfoy cracking a joke. After pulling off his glasses, Harry tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Alright, I'll handle the paramedics. You're right, Malfoy. I would've done the same. That's the whole of it though, right? No one saw you using magic during the rescue? Or are we going to need to obliviate most everyone involved?"

Hermione looked at Draco questioningly, and he squeezed her hand in gentle reassurance. Unable to resist dropping a quick kiss on her forehead, Draco shook his head. "No one else saw anything. So long as both paramedics are attended to, everything will be perfectly fine, none the wiser." Hermione offered him an adoring smile, still reeling from it all. This man, this wonderful, kind, gentle, passionate man – risked life and limb, risked everything – to save her.

And he was in love with her.

Not because of any bond. Not because he could see her in color.

He fell in love with _her._ Her thoughts. Her ideas. Her odd quirks and quick temper. He thought she was incredible all on her own, without the soulmate magic working to tie them together.

At that moment, all Hermione could think about was how she had gotten so lucky. What she and Draco shared was one in a million and the thought that either of them could have lost the other today knocked her for a loop like a boulder the chest.

"I could've lost you," she whispered brokenly, a fresh round of sobs shaking her small form. Draco's heart seized painfully in his chest, and he was sliding carefully into her hospital bed and gently pulling her into his embrace, shushing her with quiet words of affection and affirmation. Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure what to do since he usually offered the comfort Malfoy was now giving.

"Right," he whispered, before clearing his throat. "I'll go find Ron, and we'll take care of it - just, uh, take care of _her_ , Malfoy."

"Of course. Thanks, Potter," Draco murmured, as he ran a soothing hand down along Hermione's spine. Her sobs had quieted, but not stopped entirely and he wasn't ready for her to leave his arms just yet. Harry only nodded in response, pausing momentarily to stare at the couple. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Harry didn't think he could ever believe it. But watching Hermione and Malfoy cling to one another with such overwhelmed desperation – he could see exactly how they fit together and he left the room feeling much lighter than he had in a very long time.


End file.
